


My Girl

by bella_my_clarke



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellarke, F/M, Fluff, One Shot, Platonic Hand Holding, Teasing, canonverse, everyone knows they're in love, except them????, just kiss already seriously, lingering glances, platonically will die for you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 12:53:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7268980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bella_my_clarke/pseuds/bella_my_clarke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As plans unfold to save their people (again), Bellamy finds it harder and harder to conceal his feelings for Clarke. Raven's already noticed, and started commenting. So has Monty. And Miller. And--does EVERYONE know?!?!?!</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Girl

Bellamy should’ve been paying more attention, he really should’ve, but it was so much harder to focus in meetings when he was sitting next to Clarke. Which was, of course, his fault (he took considerable effort to be by her side even if it wasn’t a meeting that applied to him), but whatever. It certainly wasn’t his fault that Clarke’s voice had a hypnotic lilt to it, at least, or that there was a strand of hair loose in her face that was begging to be brushed away, or that someone had charged her hands with electricity so that he could tell there was only an inch between their fingers without even looking.

Certainly not.

He forced himself to concentrate, even when Clarke seemed to notice his discomfort and casually touched her fingers to his, and quickly found they were discussing a trip. Specifically, a conference with the grounders to work out a possible alliance and, more importantly, a plan for the upcoming months. This idea made Bellamy incessantly queasy; the grounders had never liked him, or any of his people really, and they were highly unlikely to believe them about the danger anyway, much less work with them.

“We will, of course, need a good task force to come with us, but obviously we also need the majority of our resources here, to protect Arkadia,” Kane said, looking over the group. Clarke’s fingers were warm against Bellamy’s.

“Clarke has already volunteered to lead this, seeing as she has the most experience with grounder culture and politics,” Abby added, picking up the conversation effortlessly, and Bellamy felt his heart physically drop. “Marcus will also go, since he was originally the link between us and the twelve clans.” She glanced over at Kane quietly – they were so in sync lately, they were nearly one entity – and he nodded slightly. “However, that’s obviously not enough people, so we need volunt—”

“I’ll go,” Bellamy interrupted, his voice low and clear, not to mention a bit louder than he usually allowed. It echoed around the room, and he felt everyone’s eyes on him, especially Clarke’s. To her credit, at least, she managed to keep her face neutral.

Murmurs broke out softly before others began to volunteer, and the attention soon was drawn away from Bellamy’s overzealous declaration. But Clarke’s eyes never left him.

As soon as they were out of the meeting, Clarke unceremoniously grabbed Bellamy’s arm and dragged him down the hall into her room. She closed the door but stood there for a moment, her back to him, seeming to prepare herself.

Bellamy decided to go for a casual approach. “What is it, princ—?”

“What were you thinking?” she demanded before he could finish, whirling around.

He blinked. “What?”

“What was that back in the meeting? You know you can’t go to the summit.”

Bellamy bristled immediately. “Of course I can.”

“No you can’t,” she said, and she seemed genuinely angry. What about him coming along could make her so upset? “Do you even realize how much the grounders hate you? Your very presence will unseat the meeting.”

He scowled. “They’re not big fans of you either, Clarke. After everything we’ve gone through with them, the only reason they didn’t kill you back then was because of Lexa.” She stiffened at this, and he added apologetically, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. But you know it’s true. They have as much reason to hate you as they do me by this point.”

“Yes, but at least I have experience working with them. You? Not so much.”

For the life of him, Bellamy couldn’t understand her stubbornness on the matter. “What is this really about, Clarke?”

Clarke seemed taken aback for a moment, like he’d brushed against a secret. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Do you just want to get rid of me or something? Is that it?” The words were cruel and he knew it, but the bubble of anger was swelling up in his chest right alongside the fear, the same emotions that became him when she left after Mount Weather.

Clarke rubbed her face with a hand, frustrated. “No, of course I want you with me. I just....” She sighed and closed her eyes briefly, as if against an image, or a thought. “I would just feel better if I knew you were here, safe, with our people.”

“So would I,” Bellamy said. “Which is why I’m coming with you.”

“Bellamy—”

“No, Clarke. We work together now, all right? No more separation. No more shoving the other person to the side, even for their own good. I’m done with it. I’m done worrying about you when there’s nothing I can do. I’m done having to just pray you come back.” His voice had gotten quieter with each word, and by the end it was nearing a whisper.

Clarke’s eyes had gone soft, though she was clearly still conflicted. “All—all right.” Bellamy sighed out in relief and stepped towards her, but she stopped him with an upraised hand. “But don’t think I like it, because I don’t. And you also can’t do anything stupid while we’re there.”

Bellamy found himself grinning. “Do you really think I’m capable of holding to that?”

“No,” she admitted, starting to grin, too. “But I figure when you do something stupid, I can at least pretend I tried.”

“That’s my girl.”

-

Bellamy was heading to breakfast the next day when a small figure darted in front of him. “Hey, Bell.”

Raven was using Octavia’s nickname, and her eyes had that mischievous glint to them, which could mean nothing good. “Um, hi, Raven.”

“What were you and Clarke talking about yesterday?” she said, failing miserably at acting casual.

“Did you follow us or something?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, but I saw the way she hauled you out of there like she was going to smack you up. Was she mad about you volunteering to go to the summit?”

Slowly, Bellamy nodded. “Yeah. She thought it was a bad idea.”

“Of course she did,” Raven said, smirking.

Bellamy tilted his head, frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She stared at him for a full five seconds before saying, “You’re thicker than I thought.”

“And what does that mean?”

“Oh come on, Bellamy, really? Volunteering to go on a hostile mission you clearly don’t even like at the mention of Clarke’s name? You’re not even trying to be subtle anymore.”

He shifted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really? Then what’s with the extra rations you two are always sliding each other when you’ve clearly forgotten to eat? What’s with you being more attached to her hip than my knee to its brace? What’s with the blatant heart eyes when she so much as walks by? There are censors for that level of affection in one glance, you know.”

“Screw you, Raven.” He meant to be pointed, but it came off weak instead.

“Screw her, you mean.”

Bellamy’s face burned and his voice suddenly came out as a stammer. “Raven, I don’t—”

“Oh, save it for someone who hasn’t noticed you two since day one on the ground,” she said, still with that infuriating I’ve got you now smirk. Then she jammed her thumb towards the cafeteria, where he could immediately see the shock of blonde hair, the regal posture, the small, powerful figure. “Your girl’s waiting.”

“She’s not—” he tried to insist. But Raven was already gone, her laughter echoing.

-

Bellamy worked hard to ignore what Raven had said, but the situation seemed to be working much harder to not be avoided. Miller had started making side comments that forced him to duck his head and pointing out Clarke whenever she walked by (as if Bellamy didn’t notice her already). Abby had seemed determined that every job involved them working together. (He wasn’t complaining, necessarily, but still.) Whenever he was walking with Clarke somewhere, people would glance at them quickly and then glance away, like they were invading something private. Kane gave him little knowing smiles whenever he so much as mentioned something involving her, and Monty had started calling every glass of moonshine he gave to Bellamy a ‘pining pint.’

And Raven. She was the worst of it all. Her teasing and goading never stopped, not even when Clarke was right next to them. It wasn’t even sly glances or suggestive nudges, either. He would be sliding Clarke an apple and Raven would pass by, moaning, “Oh, Bellamy, just get on with it, seriously,” or she would appear out of nowhere in the hallways and shove him into Clarke (she was strong for being so much smaller than he was) and, amid his protests, shrug and say, “What? I’m not hearing any complaints.”

The teasing was so incessant, in fact, that Clarke tried to bring up the subject. Several times. He brushed it aside jokingly each time, claiming Raven was still gloating over a won bet, and she would back off hesitantly, clearly still concerned but willing to leave the subject if he wasn’t comfortable talking about it. Coward.

It wasn’t all bad, though. Everyone was so determined to get him and Clarke together that he actually got to spend time with her, often alone. Words fell out of his mouth so much easier when it was just the two of them, and he didn’t feel quite so scared to compliment her when she looked nice or did something well, wasn’t so hesitant to grin widely when a stupid joke he cracked made her laugh. It was suddenly okay to ask for a hug when he didn’t think he could take the pressure anymore and just curl into her arms, his head tucked into her neck, and for a few quiet moments actually feel home.

So maybe his friends’ remarks always made his neck turn a deep red. So maybe he was finding it harder and harder to tear his eyes away from hers when their gazes locked. So maybe his hand found itself squeezing hers far more often than what was necessary. She was still Clarke, and she was still his girl.


End file.
